


The play's the thing

by ravenbringslight



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Canon Divergence - Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Catharsis, Feelings Realization, First Kiss, Getting Together, Grief/Mourning, Hope, M/M, No Infinity War, Sibling Incest, spaceship kisses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:28:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27622720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ravenbringslight/pseuds/ravenbringslight
Summary: Loki's image on the Statesman is deteriorating, so he decides to stage a play.It might be easier to concentrate if Thor didn't keep kissing him.
Relationships: Loki/Thor (Marvel)
Comments: 37
Kudos: 557
Collections: Best Thorkis





	The play's the thing

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 日本語 available: [The play's the thing (Japanese Translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28090953) by [Asagi_translator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asagi_translator/pseuds/Asagi_translator)



> *shows up to the post-rag spaceship party three years late with a starbucks [latte most vanilla](https://pbs.twimg.com/media/CE3xlntW0AAG32v.png)* sup

It had been a month since the world ended.

Thor woke up alone in his quarters, as he always did. He lay in bed for a moment blinking up at the ceiling and pulling himself together. It took awhile today. In truth, it had taken a little longer every day since Ragnarok. Thor had thought that perhaps his grief would start to subside over time, but it had only grown instead. He was King now, finally, but there was no shining realm for him to rule. His kingdom was nothing but a handful of sad people in a little metal box squabbling over sad things, a tiny mote in the vastness of space. It wasn’t the reign he’d envisioned, or one that he wanted. It was, however, the one he’d created for himself, and if Thor had learned anything in the past few years it was how to forge on through the consequences of his own actions. Grief and shame were not unfamiliar companions.

Loneliness, however, was. And Thor was the loneliest he’d ever been.

Once he’d put his mind in some semblance of order, he rose, dressed, and went to visit Heimdall for his daily debriefing. There was little news this morning. The stars were quiet. Thor listened to Heimdall’s even voice with his arms crossed, a habit he’d picked up to keep his hand from flexing on nothing where Mjolnir used to hang at his side.

“Thank you, my friend,” Thor said. “Have you seen my brother this morning?”

“He stopped by earlier with the manifest he’s been compiling,” Heimdall said. “It’s nearly done.”

Loki’s presence on the ship was Thor’s only real comfort, even if it was usually a cold one. Loki avoided him more often than not. Thor couldn’t say that he blamed him. He’d been so _angry_ at Loki’s deception. His brother’s avoidance now was just another consequence that Thor had brought on himself.

It was funny that Thor could miss someone he saw all the time.

Loki was always flitting to and fro doing something to help hold the remains of Asgard together for another day. Thor watched him when he could—when he thought Loki wasn’t looking, and sometimes even when he knew Loki was. It was worth it to see the color that sometimes rose to Loki’s cheeks, the way he turned away, his eyes flashing. Sometimes he thought that Loki watched him too, although Loki had always been stealthier than he was, so it was more suspicion and wishful thinking on Thor’s part than anything else.

He wondered if Loki was as lonely as he was. If Loki missed him as well.

“Korg was looking for you,” Heimdall said, breaking Thor out of his thoughts. “Something about the Sakaarian gladiators.”

Thor sighed. “Wonderful.”

He ended up spending the rest of the day dealing with them. They were from as many different planets as there were gladiators, and tensions had been growing between the individuals as well as between the larger group and the Asgardians.

Thor had a headache by the end of it. He wished he could drag Loki into this, because Loki had always been a better mediator than he was, but Loki had briefly been the Grandmaster’s creature and most of the gladiators still distrusted him completely. Thor, at least, had been a fellow prisoner, and the gladiators still saw him in a favorable light, so Thor muddled through it himself the best he could.

Thor returned to his cabin at the end of the day exhausted and hungry. He thought longingly of his chambers on Asgard and the balcony attached to his rooms, open to the sky. The recycled ship air on the Statesman was starting to make him feel a little mad. He was the God of Thunder, not the god of electrical panels. Not being able to sense the living atmosphere around him was like missing another eye. The missing storm-sense and the actual missing eye both ached with phantom pain tonight, amplifying his headache, and with a grimace he popped his eye patch off and set it on the table next to the bed. It only helped a little. Wistfully, he thought of Loki, and how when they were younger and battle-sore Loki would call frost to his fingertips and press them to Thor’s aching flesh. Thor imagined them on his face now, and put his own fingertips to his brow, but his hands were warm and rough and nothing like his brother’s.

As if summoned by Thor’s thoughts, there was a gentle but distinct rapping on Thor’s door.

“You don’t usually knock,” Thor said without turning. 

When Loki said nothing, Thor finally turned around. Loki’s eyes lingered for a moment on his naked scar.

“I finished the manifest,” Loki said, holding up a slim sheaf of paper. “I need you to look over it and sign off on everything.”

“It couldn’t wait for the morning?”

Loki shrugged with that affected nonchalance he’d perfected centuries ago. “Why wait?”

This wasn’t the first time Loki had been in Thor’s cabin, but the occurrence was all too rare, and Thor didn’t want to simply sign the papers and send him on his way.

“I’ll sign your papers,” Thor said, “but you have to do me a favor.”

Loki cocked a brow at him.

“Share a drink with me?” Thor asked.

They looked at each other for a moment. Thor’s face broke first, into a smile that almost felt bashful. Loki rolled his eyes, and shoved the papers into Thor’s chest on his way to the sideboard where the bottles sat. Thor saw Loki’s fingers run lightly over the stopper Thor had thrown at him, and then Loki was pouring two drinks and turning to hand one of them to Thor.

“Just one,” Loki said.

*

“Stop grimacing,” Loki said an hour later. He hadn’t objected when Thor had silently poured him a second drink, or a third either, and now he was curled up on Thor’s couch like a large cat and Thor was wildly happy. Thor hadn’t realized he’d been making faces.

“Sorry,” Thor said. “Headache.”

Loki made a noise of disgust. “Come here, you oaf. Why didn’t you just ask in the first place? Honestly.”

Loki was holding his arm out expectantly. Thor went over to him, and Loki gestured at the floor, and Thor sat at Loki’s feet. Loki rearranged himself to face him.

“Hold still,” Loki said. He put his fingers on Thor’s temples.

Thor yelped and pulled back. Loki was laughing.

“Sorry,” Loki said, but his eyes were mirthful, and he didn’t look sorry at all. “The drinks were strong.”

Frost was covering Thor’s face, already rapidly melting to drip into his beard.

“You did that on purpose,” Thor said, wiping the moisture away.

“Maybe a little. Come back.”

Thor grumbled and repositioned himself. This time when Loki’s fingertips settled onto his skin, a blessed coolness spread from each point of contact, and Thor’s eye fell shut and he sighed in relief. Loki’s touch moved from his temple to skim lightly around his scar, and he heard Loki’s breath hitch.

“Haven’t you been seeing the healers about this?” Loki asked.

Thor shrugged.

“They’ve been busy with everyone else. I didn’t want to bother them.”

“Oaf,” Loki said softly. He did something with his magic and it soothed a hurt inside Thor that he hadn’t realized was there, and he groaned a little.

“Thank you,” Thor said, opening his eye.

Loki settled back into his spot on the couch. “It’s only that your constant grimacing was vexing.”

Thor couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“You are allowed to just do nice things, you know.”

“And ruin my reputation? Hardly.”

The words were light but there was something about Loki’s tone, or maybe the look in his eyes, that betrayed the hurt underneath. Little wonder. Loki did have a reputation and it was hardly a good one. He was second only to Thor in the amount he was doing for Asgard, but still there were mutterings and rumors that dogged his footsteps, and naked distrust from every quarter.

And yet, Loki had stayed. Kept trying, even when it would be nothing at all to just take his little ship and leave.

Thor was suddenly, fiercely proud. _You could be more_ , he had told Loki in a fit of anger, and Loki was doing it, and Thor loved him all the more for it.

“What?” Loki said suspiciously. “You’re looking at me oddly.”

“It’s nothing,” Thor said, but Loki rose and stretched, clearly done with the conversation.

“I should go anyway,” Loki said.

Thor rose too. The alcohol must have been affecting him more than he thought, because he found himself cupping Loki’s neck, and drawing him closer, and kissing his cheek.

“Thank you,” Thor said. “I know that being here is hard, but… Thank you. For being here anyway.”

Thor knew that he wasn’t imagining Loki’s fluster. His brother stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed, his hand gone to his cheek where Thor had kissed him. Thor wanted to kiss him again, but instead he squeezed his neck briefly and then let go.

“I’ll get those papers back to you tomorrow,” Thor said, stepping away.

“Tomorrow,” Loki echoed softly.

The door whooshed shut behind him and Thor collapsed backwards onto his bed with a half-formed smile tugging at his lips and let the ceiling spin around him until he fell asleep.

*

Thor couldn’t keep Loki’s fluster out of his mind. Every time his thoughts had a moment to wander over the next few days, that’s where they went, to Loki’s pink cheeks and slightly disheveled hair and the look in his eyes—how for just a moment his mask had fallen away and Thor felt like he was looking at his _brother_ for the first time in years.

Thor had missed him so much. He wondered if he could coax him out again.

There was a Council meeting and Loki actually attended. He didn’t about half the time. Today it was Thor and Loki and Heimdall and Valkyrie and a handful of others. The meeting started out with yet another round of planning routes and refueling stops, and trying to figure out how to get enough food to feed everyone when they had nothing to barter in exchange. Thor only had half his attention on the meeting; the rest was on Loki, and thinking about kissing him again.

“...Thor? Hello?” It was Valkyrie, and Thor shook his head and turned his attention to her.

“I’m sorry, say that again?”

“What should we do about Loki?”

Thor hadn’t even realized the conversation had moved on. He blinked, and looked at Valkyrie, then at Loki, who glared at him.

Valkyrie huffed. “Honestly, Thor. Pay attention. There’s an increasingly loud group of people saying that Loki killed Odin and summoned Hela on purpose, and that he tricked you into waking Surtr.”

“Why in Bor’s name would I do any of those things?” Loki snapped.

Valkyrie shrugged. “Something to do with being kicked off the throne.”

“You need a PR campaign, mate,” Korg said. “I’d print pamphlets but we’re a bit short on printers. Paper too. And ink, come to think of it—”

Loki pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

“I’m doing everything I can to help these people,” Loki said. “What more can I possibly do?”

“It’s not everybody saying it,” Valkyrie said. “It’s not even most people. But the number is growing, and...” She trailed off.

“And if there’s anything we don’t need right now, it’s to be divided,” Thor said.

Valkyrie nodded.

One of the others piped up, the representative for the healers. “We did all enjoy your play, Your Highness,” the woman said to Loki. “Very much so. Perhaps you could write another one?”

“Gods, I could do with something like that,” the man sitting next to her said. “Something to raise the spirits in these dark times.”

Loki scowled. Thor had only caught the tail end of _The Tragedy of Loki of Asgard_ , but it had been one of the tackiest things he’d ever seen. It looked like it wasn’t Loki’s favorite memory either.

“I suppose a play isn’t the worst idea,” Loki said.

“Do we have the resources for it?” Thor asked.

They spent the next twenty minutes hashing out details before Thor ended the meeting and sent everyone on their way. Loki was the last one out, and Thor caught his elbow before he could scurry off.

“Come here,” Thor said, and pulled him into a hug.

Loki tensed immediately. It was only the second time they’d hugged since Loki came back. Thor held onto him until he relaxed. Finally Loki’s arms went around Thor as well, and Thor sighed, relieved, and pressed his cheek into Loki’s hair. It felt good to hold him like this. 

“We’ll get through this,” Thor said. “They’ll love you again.”

Loki laughed with little humor.

“They never loved me.”

“Of course they did. You were just too bitter to see it yourself.”

Loki was quiet for a moment. “Perhaps I was.”

Thor finally pulled back, and he couldn’t help himself, he cradled Loki’s neck and kissed his cheek again, the other one this time. Loki stared at him with that same naked expression for a moment, but the shutters fell over his face quickly, and he shoved Thor’s shoulder to move past him.

“What’s gotten into you?” Loki said, but he didn’t even give Thor time to answer before he was gone.

*

Thor spent the next week up to his ears in work, going over reports, writing letters trying to call in old favors, working on their new law codex, and all of it while soothing tempers and trying to keep his own.

Loki started staging his play.

He cast every child on the ship who was old enough to follow directions, and a few of the adults as well. They spent their days in one of the unused hangars rehearsing and cobbling together props out of the ship’s detritus and the meager belongings they’d brought with them, plus whatever could be found in the storerooms. Thor went to watch their progress whenever he needed a break. 

Loki embellished the most important bits of the scenery with touches of illusion here and there. He could have just magicked the whole thing from top to bottom, but he let the children create as much as they could with their own hands.

“Three quarters of the joy is in the making of a thing,” Loki murmured to Thor once, standing at his side with his arms crossed over his chest while they watched some of the older children struggle to make a backdrop hang straight. “If I did it for them I’d be robbing them.”

Thor wondered how many of the children were orphans. He slung his arm around Loki’s shoulder, wanting him close. The two of them were orphans as well, weren’t they?

“You’d better not kiss me,” Loki said under his breath. “I have a very sharp knife.”

Thor gave him a squeeze. The children were laughing, and even though watching them made Thor sad and happy in equal measure, the sound of it did his heart good. Perhaps this silly play would be good for all of them, not just Loki.

“I’ll get you some other time,” Thor threatened good-naturedly, and was rewarded with a jab in the ribs and Loki’s cheeks going pink.

*

Thor really couldn’t help himself. Flustering Loki was too rewarding, and he was so tired of being sad. It became something of a game—how often he could sneak a kiss to Loki’s cheek, how often Loki could foil his efforts. Thor got to try often, because Loki wasn't avoiding him as much anymore, and even the failures were successes because it meant they were together.

The play was still in rehearsal, but just the fact that it was happening opened some kind of floodgate in the populace. The people sought Loki out. They talked to him with tears in their eyes of their lost loved ones, asking for their stories to be included in the play.

Thor convinced Loki to join him for drinks again one evening, and they managed to make it to the very bottom of one of the bottles.

“This play is supposed to be helping my image, but it’s all going to shit,” Loki said, gesturing with his glass. “Everyone wants to be a part of it, but I can’t include everyone. The play would be a week long. They’re going to start getting angry.”

“Maybe you could do something else for them,” Thor said. “Not a play, but a… a... “ He searched for the right word. It was hard to think, because he was drunk and because Loki’s face was within reaching distance, and all he wanted to do was close the gap.

 _His lips would be soft, I think,_ Thor mused absently, then shook his head, wondering where that thought came from.

Loki looked at him expectantly, one eyebrow looking like it was going to take flight, and then blinked and closed one of his eyes to focus on Thor properly. It was a disarmingly innocent look on Loki’s usually devious face, and it made Thor feel warm and fond.

“Like a sumbel,” Thor said, finally remembering the word. They used to have them back home after a battle, passing a horn around a bonfire and telling tales of the ones who’d died in battle.

Loki frowned thoughtfully. “Hmm. Actually…” He trailed off. 

Thor knew he hadn’t expressed himself well, but whatever he’d managed to get across had set something turning in Loki’s mind, and he tossed back the last of his drink, pleased.

“Where have you been sleeping?” Thor said out of nowhere. He just realized he had no idea where Loki went when he disappeared at night.

“On that disgusting orgy ship,” Loki said.

Thor tried not to laugh.

“I was wondering why I couldn’t find your quarters.”

Loki shrugged and tipped the last drops of his own drink into his mouth. “You could have asked.”

“Would you have told me?”

Loki looked at him one-eyed again, and hiccupped, then laughed and held his glass to his flushed forehead.

“No,” Loki said. “I suspect not. I don’t know why I told you just now.”

Thor took the glass from him and held it up, wiggling it around to display its emptiness, and Loki laughed again, and let his head thunk back against his chair.

“Also because you love me,” Thor said matter-of-factly.

Loki’s cheeks were already flushed, but his head was still tipped back, and Thor could see the flush bloom down his neck as well. Loki sat up abruptly, then put his head in his hands, clearly dizzy.

“I have to go,” Loki said.

Thor had pushed too much. He didn’t know if he’d ever be able to decipher the inner workings of his brother’s mind. Loki ran away from Thor’s anger, ran away from his sincerity; Thor didn’t know how to be to make Loki not run away.

Thor stood up and offered Loki his hand, and pulled him to his feet, swaying a little. Thor took his chances and went to kiss Loki’s cheek but Loki held his hand up to intercept Thor’s lips, so Thor kissed his fingers instead.

“When are you going to give this up?” Loki said. He hadn’t taken his hand back though, and so Thor pressed Loki’s palm to his cheek and held it there. He watched with great interest the way Loki’s breathing quickened, the way his lips parted.

“Do you want me to stop?” Thor asked. 

Loki pursed his lips into a thin line and took his hand back. He left without another word. Thor watched him go with a sad half-smile. Loki hadn’t told him to stop— and not saying no was usually as close as Loki ever got to saying yes.

*

When Thor went to watch rehearsals the next day, Korg was directing and Loki wasn’t there.

“He’s in the dining hall, I think,” Korg said. Then, “Sorry, mate, I have to go, I think that little bugger over there is trying to eat paint. Asgardians can’t eat paint, right? I always get that confused—” 

Korg lumbered off. Thor’s stomach growled at the reminder that the dining hall existed, and he realized he hadn’t eaten more than a hurried bite or two in days.

Loki was there, just like Korg said he would be, surrounded by a knot of people. He clapped a misty-eyed man on the shoulder and sent the group on their way before turning to Thor.

“What are you doing here?” Thor asked.

“Sumbeling,” Loki said enigmatically, and didn’t elaborate.

“Care to join me for breakfast?”

Loki barked out a laugh. “Thor, it’s three in the afternoon.”

“Dunch, then?”

“Now you’re just making up words.”

“So are you.”

Loki rolled his eyes.

They ate at one of the long communal tables. Thor tried to ignore the way people looked at them. It wasn’t a meal time, but the dining hall was the largest common area they had, and there were always people here. Right now most of them were staring.

“You’d think they’d never seen me before,” Thor grumbled.

“Not you,” Loki said. “Me. Us. Sharing a meal.”

Thor looked at him funny, and Loki shrugged. “We hardly appear together in public.”

“Hello boys,” Valkyrie said, drawing both their attention as she dropped into the seat across from them. “Fancy meeting you lot down here amongst us mortals.”

“Valkyrie,” Thor said seriously. “Are people really staring at us because Loki and I are here together?”

She reached forward to snag some of the food off of Thor’s plate and snorted. “Definitely.”

Loki had the right of it, then. Thor wondered if the public disdain of the King was part of the reason it had been so hard for Loki to fit back in, and he kicked himself. He resolved to make more of an effort. Perhaps they should eat here every day. His stomach would thank him, if nothing else.

“I’m an idiot,” Thor said morosely.

Loki patted him on the back consolingly. “I could have told you that.”

*

Thor programmed a lunch reminder into his desk console, and every day that he could afford the time he went and ate in the dining hall. He roped Loki in on the days he could find him. After a few occurrences, people stopped staring.

“I know what you’re doing,” Loki said to him one day as they set their trays down side-by-side. 

For a moment Thor thought Loki was talking about the kisses, and his heart quickened waiting for him to continue speaking.

“I’m doing perfectly well on my own,” Loki continued. “The play and the sumbel have been more than enough to turn the tides in my favor. So you can stop this little public...whatever. I don’t require your help.”

“This little public whatever?” Thor said. “I like to call it ‘lunch,’ myself.”

Loki made a disgusted noise and knocked his shoulder into Thor’s before sitting.

What Thor wanted to do was put his arm around his brother and give him big slobbery kisses all over his face like a puppy and make him squirm, but he settled for sitting down and knocking Loki’s shoulder too. Loki elbowed him, and he elbowed Loki back.

“Stop acting like a child,” Loki hissed.

“You first.”

Loki raised his hand like he was going to swat at Thor, and Thor finally loosed the grin he’d been holding back and simply smiled at him, big and lopsided, and Loki sighed in defeat, deflating.

“You’re horrible,” Loki said.

“I know.”

“I mean it though, brother. You needn’t keep doing this.”

“What if I want to?”

Loki snorted. “Whyever would you want to?”

“Have you considered that I might enjoy your company?”

Loki laughed for a moment, and when Thor didn’t join him, the laughter died away and a serious expression dawned on his face. “You actually mean that.”

“I do,” Thor said. Before Loki could respond, Thor lowered his voice and leaned in to murmur in his ear, “And furthermore, I have something...terribly important to ask you.”

Thor knew he didn’t imagine the pink that came to his brother’s cheeks.

“Thor,” Loki said, low, a warning. “What—”

Thor let his voice go husky.

“Are you going to eat that muffin?”

Loki smashed it in his face.

*

The day of the performance, Loki and the players sequestered themselves after breakfast to do last minute rehearsals. The entire ship was abuzz with anticipation for the evening. The excitement was infectious, and Thor found himself smiling as he went about his day. They’d all had so precious little to be happy about that even the smallest scrap felt like a feast.

Thor was in the dining hall eating dinner with Valkyrie and Banner when suddenly the lighting dimmed, and he trailed off mid-sentence as all the conversations around them died to a hushed murmur. A great glowing dragon that looked like a living firework came swooping over their heads and a delighted cry went up as it banked around the room, a trail of green and gold sparkles winking behind it. When it opened its mouth Loki’s voice came out.

“Join us for the intergalactic debut of The New Asgard Players, in hangar nine, in twenty minutes’ time.”

Banner started laughing.

“What?” Thor said.

“I didn’t know that Loki was Gandalf.”

“What’s a Gan-Dalf?”

Banner started gesturing to his face and head. “You know, the wizard? With the beard and the hat and—”

Thor looked to Valkyrie, who shrugged.

“It’s from a book,” Banner said. “An earth book? He does this thing with fireworks—Oh forget it.”

“Gan-Dalf,” Thor mouthed again to Valkyrie as they started making their way to hangar nine, and tried to imagine Loki with a beard. The mental image was too ridiculous to be borne. Humans were funny creatures.

Another trail of sparkles marked the way, this one in a rainbow of colors that made Thor think of the Bifrost. It gave him a bittersweet pang.

Korg and Miek flanked the doors to hangar nine acting as ushers, directing people inside. Thor looked around as the space filled up, making a mental tally. It seemed like the entire ship was going to show up. The makeshift stage occupied one side of the hangar. The wall behind it was hung with a painted backdrop of the palace and the Bifrost and draped with tarps, and Loki and the children stood to the side in a huddle, whispering amongst themselves. Thor tried to catch his brother’s eye, but Loki’s back was to him.

When it was time, Loki made some sort of gesture and the lights dimmed. He stepped up on stage, arms spread wide, commanding the room’s attention—every inch the Prince. 

“Thank you all for coming,” Loki said. “These are difficult times we find ourselves in—perhaps the most difficult we have yet faced together. But as my brother, our King, is so fond of saying, Asgard is not a place, it’s a people. The bonds we share are our most precious resource, and they have never been as strong as they are now. Your children have been working hard for these past two weeks to help bring a little of our past into the present and provide comfort to our burdened hearts. And so, may I present to you, without further ado—The New Asgard Players!”

His words rang sincerely. Although Loki had perfected his false earnestness long ago, and Thor sometimes still had trouble telling the difference between the false and the true, Thor fervently hoped that he meant them this time.

The children trooped up on stage to the wild applause of the audience, and Thor finally managed to catch Loki’s eye. He beamed and gave Loki a thumbs up and Loki rolled his eyes.

By a few minutes in, everyone was laughing. Loki had decided to rewrite an old folktale about a clever pair of siblings who tricked a troll into cooking itself instead of them. Instead of siblings, it was all the children of a village working together (so that each child had a part), and each villager was quite clearly a caricature of one of Asgard’s more famous people: the royal family (including Thor and Loki themselves), Heimdall, several well-known warriors and bards and actors. The little boy playing Loki had his haughty sneer down to such an art that Thor nearly choked with laughter watching him strutting around the stage like he owned it. Loki had written the part with gentle satire that showed far more self-awareness than Thor was used to seeing from him.

The child playing Thor was one of Volstagg’s daughters, and when she came out on stage a stab of loss hit Thor hard in the chest. He searched for Hilde’s face in the crowd. He found her, and resolved to spend some time with his friend’s family the moment that he had a chance.

The entire play went thusly, amusement and joy alternating with flashes of sorrow and loss, until Thor was thrumming with the sweet ache of it all. The children made up in enthusiasm what they lacked in skill, and Loki stood to the side feeding lines to the ones who had trouble. Thor was so proud and helplessly fond watching him that he had to physically restrain himself from going over to scoop him up and shower him in kisses.

Instead he gazed upon him. Loki was wearing all black, as had been his custom lately, and Thor couldn’t help but admire the long lines of his body. His favorite was the nearly endless rolling curve connecting pectoral to ankle bone, the gentle swell of his chest nipping in at the waist and back out at the hip, only to repeat at the knees and calves, one long unbroken course for the eyes to follow. Thor wanted to run his hand along it, and, he realized, let his lips and tongue follow. Something hot curled inside him. This was not the game he’d been playing, not a kiss on the cheek or even Loki’s becoming fluster. This was not brotherly.

When had Thor started thinking such thoughts?

 _Even if you had two eyes, you couldn’t see_ , Thor thought.

When the play ended, Loki climbed back up on the stage to rowdy applause.

“Thank you, thank you. The players did a marvelous job, did they not? Give them another hand.” Once the cheering had subsided again, Loki continued. “Our evening is not yet over. We’ve prepared some refreshments, and we hope you’ll join us in hangar twelve for the best food and drink that our fine vessel has to offer. There will be cakes!” More cheering. “Also—” and now Loki’s face and voice took on a more serious cast, “—I hope you’ll stay after the cake as well. There is not one of us here tonight who has not lost a loved one. If Asgard is to go forth as a people, then let us remember in spirit the ones who are no longer with us in body, and who are just as much Asgard as we are. I will be holding a sumbel tonight where we will give minni to everyone we’ve lost. I hope to see you all there.”

Loki hadn’t told Thor his sumbel would be tonight, nor did it appear he had told anyone else either from the surprised murmur that went up.

“Thank you,” Loki said, clearly a dismissal, and exited the stage quickly. Thor tried to catch his eye, but only managed to snag his gaze for a second. Thor raised his eyebrows and hands in an exaggerated shrug, a nonverbal _what’s going on?_ , but Loki only shrugged back in response, his expression controlled but his eyes glittering. He began herding the children towards the door.

“Do you think I should come?” Banner said from Thor’s left, fidgeting. “I don’t want to like, impose—”

Thor clapped him on the shoulder. “Follow your heart, friend.”

Thor’s eyes followed his own heart, which was now walking out the door in a swirl of green and black.

*

Sumbels on Asgard were always serious things, full of ritual drinking and toasting meant to bolster ties among the Allfather’s vassals. Thor had fond memories from his youth. Though sumbels were always serious they weren’t somber, and spirits always ran high; to a boy allowed to sit and toast with the men it was the height of excitement. Occasionally though, especially after a battle, a sumbel was a much different affair. Those present would drink to their lost comrades, giving them minni and telling tales of their lives that all might know and honor their memory. 

When Thor made his way to hangar twelve, he saw that there were indeed tables set up along the wall full of cakes and ale, though how Loki had managed to procure either one he had no idea. In the center of the large open floor was a jumbled stack of broken crates. Loki stood next to it, hands on his hips, frowning at the unimpressive pile.

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind when I asked for a pyre,” Loki said by way of hello. “Where is the artistry?”

“Do you mean to have a bonfire on a spaceship?”

The look that Loki gave him would wither apples. “Honestly, Thor.”

People were filtering in and milling about, a few intrepid souls already raiding the food table. It looked like they might get the whole ship again. Thor went to step away and join the crowd, but Loki caught his hand.

“Stay,” Loki said.

In contrast to the joyful buzz that had preceded the play, the air was heavier, and people’s conversations were hushed. 

“If you want,” Thor murmured. He gave Loki’s hand a squeeze, and Loki gave him a tight-lipped smile, his expression holding so many emotions at once that Thor found it unreadable, and Thor squeezed Loki’s hand again to stop himself from cupping his neck.

Loki took his hand back and raised both his arms wide, dimming the lights with his seidr until it was as dark as twilight. The room fell silent. A glow began to emanate from the pyre, little tongues of magical flame swirling at the heart of it, green and gold chasing each other.

There was no speech this time. Instead, Loki simply started talking, his voice low and melodic, a perfect match to the dance of the flames.

“Let us tell the tale of Magni of Asgard—”

Loki told them of Magni, a man who had been one of the Einherjar who died at Hela’s hand, but whose life had been so much more than that. He had been a son and a brother and an uncle and a father as well; had had youthful adventures and mishaps; had fought valiantly in dozens of battles; had loved his family. Loki told the story of his life, and as he spoke the green and gold flames licked higher and began twisting themselves into shapes that illustrated Loki’s words—Magni receiving his first sword, fighting a dragon, on one knee before a woman with hair like beaten gold.

And when Loki was done, the flames fell to nothing, and everyone drank deep from their ale, and Loki began again.

“Let us tell the tale of Hrimgur of Vanaheim—”

“Greta of Asgard—”

“Astrid of Asgard—”

At some point, a sobbing woman interjected, “He was a right old arse, but I loved him all the same,” and it broke whatever thread of tension that had been holding people silent. As Loki continued his tales, more and more people began throwing in their own reminiscences until there was just as much laughter as there were tears, and the mood shifted from funereal to achingly nostalgic.

Loki’s voice grew hoarse, and Thor pressed mugs of cool ale to his hands to wet his throat. People grew weary of standing and sat on the floor of the hangar, watching Loki’s stories unfold as they huddled together, tearful eyes glistening in the glow of Loki’s seidr. Loki remained standing, so Thor did as well, offering his silent support. Thor’s heart broke and healed a dozen times over.

“Hogun of Vanaheim and Asgard—”

Thor was surprised by the sob that caught in his throat. Loki didn’t miss it. He caught Thor’s hand and held it fast through the retelling of Hogun’s deeds in life, and kept holding it as he moved into, “Fandral of Asgard—”

Thor was weeping freely by this point, and could do nothing more than hold tight to Loki’s hand and watch his friends’ lives go by—too quickly—they had been so much more than a few twisting images in the air, than their greatest deeds—but it was joyful too, to share in this grief with the rest of Asgard—and it was like he was seeing his friends again, like he was getting the chance to say goodbye that he’d never gotten.

It was time to drink to Volstagg, and Thor drained his cup dry. The flames died for the last time, and the lights came up, not to full brightness, but enough that people began looking around blinking owlishly at each other. Thor felt as tender as a newborn chick. It was like a wound that had been open and bleeding had finally been stitched shut; it was still there, it still hurt, but now he could begin to heal. For the first time he thought that maybe when he woke up tomorrow he might be able to _breathe_.

“Thank you,” Thor said to Loki, blinking his own gritty eyes. He wanted to pull Loki to him, fall into his embrace and thank him properly, but Loki was already being tugged off in six different directions by people who wanted to do the same.

Patient, Thor could be patient. He’d waited over a thousand years. He could wait a few more moments.

Heimdall found him, and Thor pulled him into a rough back-slapping hug, and then Valkyrie as well.

“He did good,” Valkyrie said, nodding at Loki. “I didn’t know he had it in him.”

Thor watched Loki leaning in to speak earnestly to a tearful woman, who threw her arms around his neck.

“I did,” Thor said.

*

By the time Thor and Loki were able to extricate themselves from the crowd, it was late enough to be early. The ale hadn’t stopped and there wasn’t enough cake in the world to absorb all they’d drunk, and they leaned on each other as they made their stumbling way down the hallway towards Thor’s quarters. Thor knew he wouldn’t spend this night alone. A feeling of inevitability hung in the air, although it didn’t feel oppressive—more like something that had been a very long time coming was about to happen, and that Thor would feel freer for it, out from under the weight of uncertainty.

Loki stopped them right outside Thor’s door. Thor couldn’t help swaying into him, cupping his neck.

“Don’t sleep on that godsforsaken orgy ship,” Thor murmured.

Loki let Thor draw him inside. He stood there looking a little lost while Thor kicked his boots off and unfastened his cloak.

“You did a great thing tonight, brother,” Thor said.

Loki’s face twisted. “Did I? Does it count as great if you only do something so that people won’t hate you?”

“That’s not why you did it.”

“It is.”

“Loki.”

Thor padded barefoot over to Loki and started unfastening his cloak as well.

“You could have left. You could have stayed and done nothing. You could have...I don’t know, leaned into all those stupid rumors like you used to, and created chaos. You didn’t do any of that. You have good in you even if you try to fool people into thinking that you don’t. Even if you try to fool _yourself_ into thinking that you don’t.”

“Stop,” Loki said,

“No. You did a great thing tonight, and I hope you see how much good you did, and how much the people love you. How much _I_ love you.”

Thor’s clumsy fingers finally freed Loki’s cloak, and it dropped to the floor in a puddle of green. He stepped around to Loki’s front and cupped his neck again, and Loki’s eyes fell shut. Thor kissed Loki’s cheek, a soft lingering press of lips, and then tilted Loki’s face and kissed the other.

“You haven’t said that to me in years,” Loki said softly.

“I’m sorry. I have no excuse.”

“Say it again.”

“I love you.”

Loki drew in a deep shuddering breath.

“Again,” Loki whispered.

Thor kissed Loki’s forehead. “I love you.” Kissed his temple. “I love you.”

Loki was trembling and his cheeks were flushed, and Thor couldn’t help but kiss them again too.

Thor took Loki’s chin in his hand and forced his gaze upward to meet Thor’s. His jaw was set, his eyes bright, like he was ready for a blow.

“It’s ok,” Thor said. “You don’t have to say it back.”

“You oaf,” Loki said, and Thor kissed him.

Any trepidation that Thor felt was banished when Loki wound his arms around Thor’s neck and deepened the kiss himself. Loki’s lips were the only thing that existed in the universe for long aching moments. They were warm and soft and pulled Thor over some threshold that he knew went in only one direction; he could never go back, not after this. It was like Ragnarok all over again, only this time his heart was thundering with hope rather than fear.

When they broke apart, Thor kept their foreheads together, unwilling to let even an inch of space separate them.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted that?” Loki said breathlessly. His hands stroked the back of Thor’s head. “I've been waiting for you for ages. I thought you’d never catch up.”

 _I’m in love with my brother_ , Thor thought, _and he’s in love with me_. It made him want to weep.

“I’ve always been slow,” Thor said, wrapping his arms around Loki’s waist and tugging him closer. “But I get there eventually.”

Loki kissed him again, and laughed out a helpless groan when Thor grabbed one of his legs and hiked it up around Thor’s waist.

“Come to bed, you lovely thing,” Thor growled against Loki’s neck. “I have a lot of years to make up for.”

*

It had been a year since the world ended.

Thor woke up next to his brother in their little wood cabin, as he always did. He took an extra moment to spoon himself around Loki’s back and rub his cold feet with Thor’s warm ones. Norway was cold in December. Loki made a sleepy noise and snuggled back into him, and Thor kissed behind his ear. In a moment, he’d get up, make some coffee and call Stark—the press had grown insufferable since Thor and Loki had defeated Thanos on Earth soil, and no one knew how to handle the press better than Stark—and then he’d talk to Valkyrie about the latest New Asgard issues that needed his attention, and then perhaps he and Loki would go for a walk. Alfheim was pleasant this time of year.

“I’m getting up,” Thor murmured.

“Mmm.”

Thor rose and dressed and remembered another day, months ago, when his grief and shame and loneliness had threatened to overwhelm him. He was still grieving, because he’d be grieving at least a little all his days, but the shame had receded to nothing, and the loneliness—well—

He went over to the bed and Loki tugged him down and kissed him, closed-mouthed and sweet.

“Love you,” Loki said, yawning, and then he was drifting back to sleep.

As long as Thor had his brother, he didn’t think he’d ever feel lonely again.

**Author's Note:**

> www.twitter.com/thunderingraven


End file.
